Like Brothers On A Hotel Bed
by Mello2014
Summary: They were always a "could of been"... A collection of shorts/drabbles about their love story; all it was, wasn't, and could have been...
1. You've Got Your Daddy's Eyes

_Author's Chapter Notes:_

_Song Inspiration: Alcoholic- Starsailor_

_Story: Post-Series AU: Dean's been dead two years. He leaves behind a wife and a brother; who haven't stopped looking. He also leaves behind a little green eyes, curly haired three year old boy named Bobby. It's the anniversery of his death, they've been looking and coming up moot; and Cassie's going through it._

_Slight Sam/Cassie (Muse had a mind of it's own)_

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><p>She hadn't woken up like this in a long time; all covered in sweat, the bags so heavy under her eyes she felt their weight, and she was nauseous. She looked in the mirror for a long time, but not really at herself.<p>

Sometimes, she'd look in mirrors and look straight past herself and start seeing green; intense, heavy laden green that brightened on occasion instead of dulling on the latter. She'd see straight past herself and look right at contrasting pale, pink; that used to lay heavy against her deep browns. She'd look straight past herself and see Dean Winchester; she had been doing it since the day they fell in love, but a little more over the past two years, on March 19th. The day her husband of five years was killed.

At first, she and Sam looked for ways to bring him back. Neither of them, per Winchester fashion, were going to let him stay dead. But one week turned into three months that turned into a whole year and half of she and Dean's son, little Bobby Winchester, asking when his father was coming home for them to get desperate. And a little scared. A year and a half turned into two and Sam was getting tired. And life seemed to stop, for all three of them.

It wasn't until the end of last year when Garth (the self -proclaimed "new Bobby") told them that there may have been a way to get him back. So the hunt was back on. And they started moving again, but never really moving on. Just, seemingly, on the same cycle for two years.

Today marked their third year without Dean. So she woke up in cold sweats from bad nightmares and heavy amounts of guilt from not being there. Little Bobby Winchester was turning three in two weeks and Cassie only had one gift in mind to give him; but she was shortly starting to believe that that wasn't possible.

Her answering machine startled her out of her haze;

"_Hey Cassie, its Sam. Got your text and checked out that coven; they didn't have what we were looking for. Maybe they were too young, but they'd never heard of the ingredients for the ritual. I'll keep looking."_

Beep.

"_Cassie—hey, it's me, Sam. I talked to Garth; and apparently he ran into a warlock that might have done something that maybe could be our thing? I don't know, I'm running on a lot of guessing. But I'll keep looking. We'll find a way…to bring him back…"_

Beep.

"_Hey Cassie…its Sam. I don't think I ever call you just to ask how you're feeling…I know today's—well, you know what today is—I'll swing by tonight, if you want. We'll watch Bad Santa and drink really bad beer and—and we'll sing Bobby to sleep. I know that was a "you-and-Dean" thing but—hey, I'm sorry. I'm rambling. I miss him. And I miss you and Bobby and-and I'll come by later. See you soon."_

Beep.

By the last one, she was already in tears.

She grabbed both sides of the bathroom sink and braced herself against sobs that threatened to rack her body; sobs that signaled a sort of giving in to the fears that Dean may be never coming back.

She didn't know if she could let herself believe that.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

"Mommy?"

She stopped, and steeled herself, easing, gently into the small touch of the caramel colored, curly haired, green eyed boy holding her knee, looking up at her with blissful, unknowing, innocence. She looked down, and closed her eyes, for just a minute. Because she never wanted that innocence in his eyes to leave. She never wanted to tell him that his daddy wasn't coming home. She didn't want that to be the truth.

"Mommy? Are you okay, Mommy?"

"I'm fine, handsome", she picked him up, and kissed his head "I'm perfect now that you're here".

"Mommy, what are we having for breakfast?"

"What do you want baby?" she walked away from the bathroom and into their small kitchenette, going through the fridge, but never putting her little boy down.

"I like pancakes"

"Me too—don't we all like pancakes?"

"Yes, all of us! Me and you and daddy!"

"Yes, me, and you and…daddy", she smiled, looking at her son. She took a moment, looking at his eyes. They were shaped and shaded just like his father's. He looked so much like him. And he was growing into such a handsome boy…and Dean was missing it.

"Is daddy having breakfast with us too?"

She looked away now, keeping busy, "daddy's working, dear."

Three knocks sounded at the door around lunch time.

For a second, she thought…_there were three knocks, they were heavy as if the person was laying on the door…Dean knocked like that…_

But she shook it, and answered the door to see Sam's smiling face.

Sam's smiles were a lot like his affection; completely genuine. But he looked like he'd been crying too, which made her feel a little less alone.

And the whole evening went according to plan; Sam played with Bobby for hours, and helped her make dinner. And while she gave Bobby a bath, Sam cleaned house (much to her chagrin later), and then Sam told Bobby bed time stories, and they sang to him until he fell asleep. Sam even came through on the beer and "Bad Santa".

It was while they were watching the movie when Cassie finally let the levies break.

And Sam didn't ask any questions. He just held her. And she cried, and he cried, and she closed her eyes; tormented by uncertainty and denial and Dean's eyes. Those eyes that now belonged to her son.

The eyes she'd never be able to escape.

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><p><em>Oh the angst; I'm feeling a little angsty now myself.<em>

_Well, I hope you enjoyed it! It wasnt the best, but it was pretty good if you ask me._


	2. Cold Pizza

_Author's Chapter Notes:_

_Drabble: Season 8 AU. Poat 8.15; Dean and Cassie learn a little something about appreciation from a piece of burnt, cold pizza and a very tired Sam Winchester._

_-Setting: Men of Letters Hang-Out_

_-Cassie is a hunter_

_-A little all over the place; forgive and bear with me._

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><p>"Cassie, what the hell is this?"<p>

Cassie rose her head up from the profound novel she was reading about Egyptian folk lore—doing research, as her boyfriend so colorfully suggested she do.

"Dinner, honey."

Dean looked at her, mouth ajar as he held up the almost completely burnt, cold slice of pizza. "Seriously?"

They'd been at it for the past three days. Ever since the witch case; when Dean asked Cassie to stay back, and she came anyway, proceeding to save both Dean and Sam but nearly getting killed in the process. Dean's been pissy and Cassie's been fed up. At first, they argued; it wasn't words full of jabs; just really harshly said truths. Sam, who had kept his mouth zipped the entire time (because when he tried to interject they both turned on him) watched on, as the arguments turned into childish cold shouldering and fight picking. Dean would purposely ignore Cassie. She hated when he did that. So she started doing the very opposite of everything he asked her; down to the giving him a glass of milk instead of a beer from the fridge. So he started sleeping at the table, and Cassie kept the bedroom door closed, and Sam busied himself with looking for another case while the two of them duked it out.

It was day three, and Sam was so tired he took to outright laughing at them.

Because this was _funny_.

"What is your problem?" Dean asked, glowering at his girlfriend from behind the fridge door.

"Right now? You. Asshat."

"Hey, that's my word!"

"Oh, I'm aware", she finally placed her book to the side. Sam coughs away the giggles, because Dean's face is priceless, and Cassie was starting to look like she'd come out on top of this one.

"This", Dean holds up the pizza like a dirty diaper, "is going too far!" he tosses it into the trash, and slams the fridge door, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sam suppressed another laugh, because Dean was wearing his serious face.

"You know what's going too far?" Cassie stood now, pointing at him, "putting me on the burner and getting mad at me for doing my job!"

"I asked you to stand down, and for good friggin' reason", he points at her wrapped thigh "he could have killed you!"

"And I'm supposed to sit back while he tries to kill the both of you? That's **selfish** and foolish and I refuse to let your _stupidity_ get you killed and I have to be the one left living with it."

This got real, real quick. Sam knew the look on Cassie's face. It was a common Winchester look. The one they gave when one of them was all guts and glory and thoughtlessness. Both of the brothers had gotten it; mostly from each other. But now there was Cassie, and she wasn't like them. Sam was glad about that; they needed someone who was willing to hit them upside the head and remind them to use it. And she loved them; and she as in love with Dean and was willing to help them carry their ever present load. And Dean needed to learn to appreciate that. Fast.

Sam hadn't realized that he'd been thinking out loud, until Cassie and Dean's facial expressions caught his attention. Dean's chin was turned down, his eyes searching and not knowing what to do with his hands; he was giving in. Cassie's eyes were a little watery, and she was worrying her lip, looking away from the both of them. Sam stood up from the desk he had been working at, "I'll—go grab some dinner."

They both watched as the door closed behind him, and remained looking at the door, silent.

Dean and Cassie were so much alike it scared them. Both head strong, stubborn, and unwilling to yield, because neither could admit to being wrong and always saw their side as truth, whether that truth be full out or only half way there. Both had pride issues. The list goes on.

But the biggest thing they had in common, was that neither knew how to say sorry.

They turned to each other simultaneously, confident at first, but upon meeting the other's gaze, faltered back a bit.

"Look, I—"

"Dean, I'm—"

They looked up at one another. He laughed. She smiled. "I'm sorry—okay?"

"No—"

"Let me finish, Cassie", Dean sighed, approaching her, "I was wrong. I undermined you. I treated you like a damsel in distress, and that wasn't right. At all. I mean, you saved me…I'm not real good at this. I _was_ being selfish, and foolish and stupid, and Sam was right, I just…"

"Dean", she locked her eyes on his, approaching him, "I understand—I know you. I get it, and I'm sorry if I scared you. Or made you feel like you were gonna lose me."

They were face to face now. She had a hand on his cheek. He kissed her palm and held it there. She got closer, "I chose this. And I chose you. And I'm not going anywhere."

Dean looked at her, he really looked at her. And Cassie Robinson had that look in her eye; the one she had when they first met that let him know that she didn't have to swear to or on anything for you to know that she was making a promise. And she always kept her promises.

And Dean would always be scared. Because the women around them never lasted. But she was here; she was standing the tests of time and everything that came at them. So he would believe and trust her—he'd at least try.

He took her into his arms and kissed her. Kissed her like she was air. And she kissed him. Kissed him like he was the answer to everything.

And after they were spent, they pressed their foreheads together, breathing and smiling and embracing, "can I sleep in my room now?"

Cassie grinned, kissing him again, "who said anything about sleeping?"

Dean grinned, following her lead back to their room, when he had a thought, "wait…can we talk about the pizza first?"

Cassie arched a brow, "really? You wanna talk about the pizza or moving this furniture around?"

Dean looked thoughtful for about point five seconds, garnering exasperation out of Cassie before he shook himself, "Right. Furniture."

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><p><em>Hope you enjoyed it! More to come:)<em>

_RnR_

_(**cough, cough** the last lines were for Megstiel)_


End file.
